


Merry Fucking Hangover

by This_world_of_beautiful_monsters



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (IDW Comics), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas story months after Christmas because reasons, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Implied ace/demi Donatello, Implied/Referenced Drug And Alcohol Use, M/M, Mistletoe, Other, casual making out, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:53:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_world_of_beautiful_monsters/pseuds/This_world_of_beautiful_monsters
Summary: Woody wakes up in the post-Christmas Hamato household and tries to figure out what exactly happened last night.
Relationships: Alopex/Angel Bridge, Casey Jones/Raphael (TMNT), Multiple other random pairings, Woody Dirkins/Michelangelo
Kudos: 6





	Merry Fucking Hangover

Woody wakes up in bed with a snoring turtle, a ice-pick level hangover, and a pool of combined drool surrounding his face. It's nothing to write home about--one of his cousins once woke up in a dumpster with a communist drag queen and a Hawkeye cosplayer--but it's still pretty decent proof that last night was what the kids call a "raging bash." Or something.

He sits up with a groan, rubbing his head and grabbing for the Advil, but instead his hand _clonks_ on something wooden instead. "What the fuck?"

Huh. There's a fresh new of nunchucks on the nightstand, and he could have _sworn_ Mikey puts his away before the party....oh, those are wrapped up in a ribbon, and they've got a little kanji tag. Must be a Christmas gift.

And then all thoughts as gifts and chucks are blown away by the desire to puke _right now._ He scurries into the main hall, blinking and rubbing his eyes...but wait, this ins't his house, unless his parents have just switched out the dining room for a makeshift armory.

"Bathroom's over there," Leo says, sticking his head out of his room and looking unfairly unruffled. Woody waves, not trusting himself to open his mouth, and makes a run for it. He spews his pizza and Christmas cookies before spending a few moments resting his poor throbbing head on white porcelain, trying to reacquaint himself with the waking world.

Eventually, he staggers to his feet and grabs for the Advil, trying to figure out why the family of _hairless_ turtles has shampoo and conditioner with their bath stuff. Wait, is that for Splinter? Shit, it's for Splinter, isn't it. God, it's too early to go down _that_ particularly emotional wormhole.

When he emerges, Leo's gone and there's still snoring from Raph and Mikey's room, along with from the dojo. Woody peers in to see Slash sprawled across the flower in a mountain of spikes and scales, candy wrappers impaled on his spikes--and, okay, maybe he doesn't look _quite_ as scary in the cold light of day.

Donnie's sitting on the couch in the main room with a pair of sunglasses, watching muted TV and nursing a cup of coffee, looking as grim as Woody feels. "Morning," Woody says, taking care to keep his voice low out of respect--this is probably the turtles' first hangover, after all.

"Morning," Donnie replies, looking not quite up to eye contact. "They got the lights back on, by the way." Oh, right, Donnie had blown out half of New York. Woody wonders if that technically counts as an act of domestic terrorism, even if it was an accident, but his head hurts too much to consider for too long.

"Cool," Woody says, surveying the room. The place looks mildly trashed, although at least there's room to walk without stepping on bottle caps and he can't see any pizza sauce mixed in with the vomit. A rapid-fire sketch of President Trump hangs from the ceiling in a noose of Christmas lights, adorned with Mikey's familiar loopy signature. Someone also scrawled FUCK THE EPF in lipstick on a post, accompanied by an eggplant emoji.

"So, this is my first hangover and everything somehow manages to feel even worse when I enter the lab, which sucks. Do you know you have _Killer Queen_ written on your abdominal muscles?"

Woody stares. "What?" He glances down at his bare chest and sees someone has scrawled just that in permanent blue marker. "Huh." He'll have to scrub it off later, although now his skin feels too tender for such ministrations.

"Also, here's your phone." Donnie holds it out. "I found it in my pillowcase this morning.'

Woody gratefully takes it and plops down on one of this less battered recliners. He carefully lowers the brightness to one of its dimmest settings, although his eyes still sting a little as he read his texts. His parents want him to show up for a family meal this afternoon--fuck, he hopes his head stops throbbing by then, and how is it already almost _noon?_ He signs in and--

"What the _fuck?"_

"Oh, we set up some mistletoe after we came back in and had a bit more of whatever the fuck that hermit crab was passing around," Donnie replies, not looking away from the television screen, which is now playing a trailer for another _Fast and_ _Furious_ movie. "God, the _physics_ in those things....I'd feel a lot less insulted if they just went full parody and shot Vin Diesel out of a cannon for the next one."

Woody flips through the pictures. Angel and Alopex, Alopex kissing Sally, Raph kissing Casey, Sally and Angel, Lindsay and Sally, Mondo slow-dancing with Seymour, more Angel and Alopex, more Lindsay and Sally, Mikey making out with Casey, _Woody_ making out with Casey (explains his blurry memories of a slightly bristly chin and Axe body spray), and....

"Is that Man Ray with _Herman?"_

"That actually happened?" Donnie sounds vaguely impressed. "Can you send me a picture? I'd love to see how they overcame the obstacles in height and mouth shape. We were busy trying to sedate Pete at the time--he was banging into walls and we were worried he was going to break a wing. Did you know that he can recite _Desperate Housewives_ plot lines in detail while inebriated? Very impressive."

"Okay...." Pictures of April kissing a string of people while her hair stuck out in every direction, although she _still_ managed to look remarkably collected. _Some people have all the luck_. Woody's eyes are crossed in almost every shot.

"You're clearly experiencing a minor blackout, so in case you're wondering why you're topless in most of these," Donnie takes another sip of coffee, "You and and Mikey and Mondo were having a three-way kiss and he threw up on you." Yes, Woody can see a picture of them kissing, and Mondo does look decidedly greener than usual, although he's pleased to see that he and Mikey both seem blissfully happy.

"We cleaned you guys up, but you wouldn't put on another shirt because you said you wanted to "live free or die." And then Mikey started singing the national anthem, but it turned into the theme song from _Friends_ halfway through." Donnie sighs, rubbing his head. "On the one hand, he had heart, on the other...it hurts even to _remember_ it."

"Hey, don't mock my boy's pipes," Woody chides, swiping again. "Whoa, I can't believe we put a bra and sunglasses on _Pepperoni_. Didn't Raph blow a gasket?"

"He and Casey were going at it on the couch at the time; They didn't really notice. I think that Raph almost had Casey's pants off before Leo made them get a room at sword point.

"How do you even remember this much?"

"Perfect recall," Donnie says, tapping the side of his head and than wincing. "It's a gift, a curse, and it'd probably land me years in therapy if there was a psychologist out there who I could talk to without traumatizing us both. And no, I still don't know whose bra Pepperoni's wearing, it is, and I'm scared to call any of my suspec--" Donnie's cut off when Woody drops the phone with a clatter.

_"I kissed Leo?!"_

"Dude, you kissed _all_ of us." Donnie says, and Woody gapes. "You said you wanted to spread the magical love and overturn the heteronormative cultural standards perpetuated by the original Christmas narrative--yeah, we don't know where that came from, either. And then the more sober humans had to explain to the Mutanimals what the heck you were talking about, and I think we were debating the superheroic nature of Jesus when I fell asleep...."

He rubs his head thoughtfully, leaning back against the couch. "You know, it didn't really do anything for me, and it didn't do anything when I kissed Alopex later. Remind me to add that to the Monitory Sexuality file." Woody decides that's a topic with another time, preferably with Mikey to act as translator.

"I can't believe I kissed _Leo,"_ he- says, still shaking his head. "I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but he seems so _stoic_ , it's like...like kissing someone's _dad,_ almost. And I thought he wasn't drinking?"

"Because he didn't look like he was going to die this morning? That's the meditation--don't ask me how, he won't let me run any psychological experiments on him. Besides he wasn't _that_ drunk--Mikey made you give them each a buck beforehand. Which you should definitely not mention to anyone, especially Raph _._ He's embarrassed enough about showing PDAs with _Casey,_ let alone anyone else."

"Got it. By the way, it was nice of you guys to get those nunchucks for Mikey."

Donnie frowns. "We didn't get him nunchucks."

"No? I found 'em in his room."

Donnie sighs. "Splinter, probably. He must have come in last night--the warning systems should have alerted me, but it's _Splinter_ _."_

Woody stares. "Hold on, he just....broke in? Without asking?" He's heard enough about the Splinter situation to know that none of the turtles are on particularly fuzzy terms right now, and for him to just walk in. "Isn't that kind of creepy?"

Donnie shrugs. "Maybe, but at least he's making an effort, and he's not giving out Foot gear or heavy artillery. Could be worse, really. It could also be better, but that's a problem for less-hungover Donnie."

Before Woody can think of answer, Mikey trips into room and over the chair arm, landing head-first in his lap with a soft groan. "My head huuuuurts...." he whines.

"I'm sorry, baby," Woody croons, rubbing it gently.

"Good morning, Mikey," Donnie says, sipping the dregs of his coffee with a rueful expression.

"Shhh, not so loud," Mikey whispers. "Everything hurts. What did we _drink_ last night?"

"Eggnog spiked with Casey's dad's good booze and whatever the hell Herman had in his flash," Donnie replies. "Which I probably should have tested for cross-contamination with what _Mondo_ was smoking, but c'est a la vie. Chances are Leo's going to strip-search everybody at the door next year, though, especially when he finds out I bought a life-size's Spock figure because Angel dared me I couldn't."

Mikey raises his head a little, blinking. "We can afford that?"

"I've been draining cash from A Million Moms and the Westboro Baptist Church," Donnie reminds him gently. "But Leo will still be ticked about it anyway." He gives an evil smile. "Plus, I'm going to forget what I did until it shows up."

"M'kay," Mikey says, grinding his face back into Woody's crotch, and Woody is starting to realize that erections can overcome hangovers with the proper motivation. Which is not really something he wants to focus on right here, especially if Donnie is as willing to resort to threats as Leo is about keeping the living room PG-13.

"Hey," he says, rubbing Mikey's shell. "You wanna go back to bed, baby? It's darker there."

"Oh, yeah!" Mikey says, popping back up. "Yeah, I was gonna come get you 'cause Leo's gonna make everybody clean up soon, but he won't bother us if he thinks we're in there together. He's been paranoid about walkin' in on people ever since he did it with Raph and Casey in Thanksgiving."

"Do what you want, he'll probably just make the Mutanimals clean up instead," Donnie says, sitting back to peer into the depths of his empty coffee cup with the expression of one contemplating the universe. "They're all passed out in the church--none of them were sober enough to get home. I found Pigeon Pete's shorts on the ladder and now I'm too scared to go up there.

"Wait, _what--"_ But Mikey's already dragging him back to bed, and maybe that's for the best.

"By the way, would you mind texting me those pictures? I wanted to show Harold everything he missed out on by being an antisocial creep."

**Author's Note:**

> Just putting in an unsolicited advertisement for IDW's spectacular Be Gay, Do Comics anthology at https://www.comixology.com/Be-Gay-Do-Comics/digital-comic/852982?ref=c2VhcmNoL2luZGV4L2Rlc2t0b3Avc2xpZGVyTGlzdC9pdGVtU2xpZGVy and https://www.idwpublishing.com/product/be-gay-do-comics/


End file.
